


Something to Believe In

by wordsliketeeth



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe - Prison, Character Study, Dirty Thoughts, Established Relationship, F/M, Internal Conflict, Letters, Minor Character Death, Regret, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 17:39:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18782998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordsliketeeth/pseuds/wordsliketeeth
Summary: "Every time I think I'm headed in the right direction I wind up in some dark corner I never even knew could feel this bad. And it's hard not to go back to the man I used to be—the person I was before I met you. Some days, when I wake up and face the same cold walls that remind me why I'm here, I think it'd be easier to slip away and fall back into the past." Nash is in prison for a violent crime. While serving time, he reflects on his past and his hopes for the future in a letter to his girlfriend.





	Something to Believe In

September 15―

I'm not much in the way of a writer and I've never been a decent correspondent, so I'm just gonna jump into this while I have a minute to myself.

I know I promised you that things wouldn't get this bad, and I really believed that, I never expected this. Now that I'm here and I've had the time to go over all of this shit in my head, all I can say is that I'm sorry. I know it's not much but it's what I need to tell you. I'm trying so fucking hard to change, to not give into the wealth of negative things I feel in my heart. I'm trying to learn how to stop the violence but my anger always seems to get the best of me. It seems like every time I try to change, I just keep repeating old behavior. I hear your voice in my head when I have the face of another punk under my fist, how you told me to try and be a leader, to think before I act. It's hard to believe that there are people out there really capable of doing that. I think you just want me to do the shit that hurts the most. This is your attempt at retaliation, isn't it? I think you've started to learn a thing or two from me. I should watch that, I could end up in serious trouble if you start to emulate me.

All jokes aside, I can see myself reflecting back at me in the eyes of the other prisoners—it scares me sometimes. I see a man so deep in the red that it chills me down to the bone. I've been trying to figure out when things started to go so far south, when I started to swim against the stream, but it seems impossible. It's like looking for a virgin in a god damn whorehouse.

Jesus Christ, this letter is starting to turn into a perfect storm, isn't it? I guess it doesn't make much difference—me pouring my heart out on paper for you—blood is the only color I seem to see anymore. I just wish I could stop getting burned by temptation's angry flame. Maybe then, I wouldn't be locked away in a cell that smells like piss and feels like someone's memory of decay.

I miss you so much, babe. I could really use your insight right now. We might not always see eye to eye but you've always had a way of steering me down the right path, and I feel so far off-track lately. Every time I think I'm headed in the right direction I wind up in some dark corner I never even knew could feel this bad. And it's hard not to go back to the man I used to be—the person I was before I met you. Some days, when I wake up and face the same cold walls that remind me why I'm here, I think it'd be easier to slip away and fall back into the past. I suppose things weren't easier then, not really, but when I think about those times and how naturally everything came to me, it makes going forward seem so futile. It's hard to own up to the shit that I've done and even harder to live in the present. It was easier just to hate because hate kept me alive, gave me the promise that I'd be tomorrow's commander. It was the only feeling that I could make sense of, that kept me from caving under the weight of the emotions that could make me human. Then you came along and made me realize what that kind of hate does to a man. I still don't know how you found the strength to put up with me then. Even now, I find myself asking what the hell I did to deserve you and why you've still got my back—the only thing I can come up with is the sex. I can imagine your face right now but I'm only half joking. You have to admit, we've had some pretty crazy nights, done some pretty wild things.

Thinking about all those times we've spent together hurts but it helps me get through each day—it helps to know that I have someone waiting for me when I get out of this place. It's not easy for me to admit, but I don't know where I'd be if I didn't have seeing you again to look forward to. I miss the way you smell, the way you taste—I'd give anything to have you in my arms right now. I miss being able to run my hands through your hair, to drag my fingertips across your skin. It's funny, isn't it? How being here has made me realize how much I overlooked the little things. You really learn what's most important to you when you're left with nothing. That being said, not being able to fuck you is driving me damn near insane. I guess I should thank my mom the next time I see her, for giving me such a vivid imagination. You think it'd be hard to jerk off in a jail cell but it's one of the few perks here, so you learn to take what you can get. Still, my hand won't ever pass for yours. I miss your touch and the soft of your hands. I miss the sound of your breathing against my ear and the little whimpers you make when you start to get wet. I miss your desperate kisses and that hazy look you get behind your hungry eyes. I miss the way you work yourself down my body and the way your lips feel around my cock. I even miss the blush that tinges your cheeks when you look up at me with your mouth full and a hand between your thighs. Fuck, if only I could have you here, alone, just for a few minutes...

I can picture the way your skin feels against my tongue and beneath my hands. If I close my eyes and focus hard enough, I can taste you on my lips— _all of you_. I can smell your arousal and hear the sound of your body opening up to me as I push myself into you. I can feel your fingers on my arms and your breath catching against the sweat on my skin. I can envision the way you feel around me, wet and tight and deep and _**fuck**_...

I'm so sick of being away from you. At times like these, I don't know what I want more—to close myself off from the world or start a riot bigger than the guy's asshole in the cell next to mine. If I weren't so damn straight I'd consider a go, at least that guy's getting laid.

Now's probably not the best time to tell you that I've got your picture next to me. But... looking at you, it gives me hope. Makes me think that I'm one day closer to seeing you again. I just pray that we get out of here in the same way we got brought in. I still can't believe that I buried one of my best friends two months ago. Things were going so well before Nick started talking shit and lost his head. I guess I should have known it was going too good. I still don't regret putting that asshole in the ground. I know you want me to see the error of my ways and all that other good shit, but remorse just doesn't come to me when I think about that day. Still, I'm trying for you. Jason says hi, by the way. I love you, babe, with every piece that's left of my soul. I miss you. I'll write again when I can.

―Nash

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


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